With: Sharon Sala
Giveaway Alert!
A PIECE OF MY HEART
She’s never had a home
Growing up in a troubled foster home, Mercy Dane knew she could never rely on anyone but herself. She’s used to giving her all to people who don’t give her a second glance, so when she races to Blessings, Georgia, to save the life of an accident victim, she’s flabbergasted when the grateful town opens its arms to her. She never dreamed she’d ever find family or friends—or a man who looks at her as if she hung the stars.
Until she finds peace in his arms
Police Chief Lon Pittman is getting restless living in sleepy little Blessings. But the day Mercy Dane roars into his life on the back of a motorcycle, practically daring him to pull her over, he’s lost. There’s something about Mercy’s tough-yet-vulnerable spirit that calls to Lon, and he will do anything in his power to make her realize that home isn’t just where the heart is—home is where their heart is.
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2hX9A4T
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Excerpt:
From childhood, Mercy Dane viewed Christmas Eve in Savannah,
Georgia, like something out of a fairy tale. The old, elegant mansions were
always lit from within and decorated with great swags of greenery hanging above
the doorways and porch railings like thick green icing on snowy white cakes.
The shops decked out in similar holiday style were as charming as
the sweet southern women who worked within. Each shop boasted fragrant
evergreens, plush red velvet bows, and flickering lights mimicking the stars in
the night sky above the city.
And even though Mercy had grown up on the hard side of town with
lights far less grand, the lights in her world burned with true southern
perseverance. Now that she was no longer a child, the beauty of the holiday was
something other people celebrated, and on this cold Christmas Eve, she no
longer believed in fairy tales. So far, the chapters of her life consisted of a
series of foster families until she aged out of the system, and one magic
Christmas Eve with a man she never saw again. The only lights in her world now
were the lights where she worked at the Road Warrior Bar.
The yellow neon sign over the bar was partially broken. The R
in Road
was missing its leg, making the word look like Toad. But
the patrons who frequented this bar didn’t care about the name. They came for
the company and a drink or two to dull the disappointment of a lifetime of
regrets.
Carson Beal, who went by the name of Moose, owned the bar. He’d been
meaning to get the R fixed for years, but intention was
worth nothing without the action, and Moose had yet to act upon the thought.
Outside, the blinking neon light beckoned, calling the lonely and
the thirsty into the bar where the beer was cold and the gumbo and rice Moose
served was hot with spice and fire.
Moose often took advantage of Mercy’s talent for baking after she’d
once brought cupcakes for Moose and the employees to snack on. After that,
she’d bring in some of whatever she’d made at home. On occasion Moose would ask
her to bake him something special. It was always good to have a little extra
money, so she willingly obliged.
This Christmas Eve, Moose had ordered an assortment of Christmas
cookies for the bar. When Mercy came in to work carrying the box of baked
goods, he was delighted. Now a large platter of cookies graced the north end of
the bar.
The incongruity of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” playing in the
background was only slightly less bizarre than the old tinsel Christmas tree
hanging above the pool table like a molting chandelier.
Because of the holiday, only two of his four waitresses were on
duty, Barb Hanson, a thirtysomething widow with purple hair, and Mercy Dane,
the baker with a curvy body.
Mercy’s long, black hair was a stunning contrast to the red
Christmas sweater she was wearing, and her willowy body and long, shapely legs
looked even longer in her black jeans and boots. Her olive skin and dark hair
gave her an exotic look, but being abandoned as a baby, and growing up in
foster care, she had no knowledge of her heritage.
Barb of the purple hair wore red and green, a rather startling
assortment of colors for a lady her age, and both women were wearing reindeer
antler headbands with little bells. Between the bells and antlers, the music
and cookies, and the Christmas tree hanging above the pool table, Moose had set
a holiday mood.
Mercy had been working at the bar for over five years. Although
she’d turned twenty-six just last week, her life, like this job, was going
nowhere.
It was nearing midnight when a quick blast of cold air suddenly
moved through the bar and made Mercy shiver. She didn’t have to look to know
the ugly part of this job had just arrived.
“Damn, Moose, play some real music, why don’t ya?” Big Boy yelled as
the door slammed shut behind him.
Moose glared at the big biker who’d entered his bar. “This is
real music, Big Boy. Sit down somewhere and keep your opinions to yourself.”
The biker flipped Moose off, spat on the floor, and stomped through
the room toward an empty table near the back, making sure to feel up Mercy’s
backside in passing.
When Big Boy suddenly shoved his hand between her legs, she nearly
dropped the tray of drinks she was carrying. She knew from experience that he
was waiting for a reaction, so she chose to bear the insult without calling
attention to it.
As soon as he was seated, Big Boy slapped the table and yelled at
the barmaids. “One of you bitches bring me a beer!”
Moose glanced nervously at Mercy, aware that she’d become the target
for most of Big Boy’s harassment.
Barb sailed past Mercy with a jingle in every step. “I’ve got his
table,” she said.
“Thanks,” Mercy said, and delivered the drinks she was carrying.
“Here you go, guys! Christmas Eve cheer and cookies from Moose!”
One trucker, a man named Pete, took a big bite out of the iced sugar
cookie. “Mmm, this is good,” he said.
“Mercy made them,” Moose yelled.
Pete shook his head and took another bite. “You have a fine hand
with baking. I’d ask you to marry me, darlin’, but my old lady would object.”
Mercy took the teasing with a grin. The men at this table were good
men who always left nice tips. In fact, most of the patrons in the bar were men
with no family or truckers who couldn’t get home for Christmas. Every now and
then, a random woman would wander in to have a drink, but rarely lingered,
except for Lorena Haysworth, the older woman sitting at the south end of the
bar.
She’d been coming here since before Mercy was born, and in her
younger days she and Moose had been lovers before slowly drifting apart. She’d
come back into his life a few months ago and nightly claimed the seat at the
end of the bar.
Barb took the first of what would be multiple beers to Big Boy’s
table, along with a Christmas cookie and a bowl of stale pretzels, making sure
to keep the table between them.
Big Boy lunged at her as if he was going to grab her, and when she
turned around and ran, he leaned back and laughed.
I like the sound of A Piece of My Heart and would like to read it. Actually, Blessings, Georgia sounds like the kind of town I'd like to live in so I want to read all of the books in this series.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the giveaway. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.